“What are you doing!?” I thought I said out loud. “There’s nothing wrong with me!”
My housemate didn’t hear me. She was staring at me and dialing 911.
As the left side of my face drooped, she later told me, my eye slid down my face. I barely noticed; I was focused on trying to sip my tea but my left hand wouldn’t grasp the cup handle.
We had been looking at a new house. While in the living room, feeling out the property, I began to feel very dizzy. I curved my head and shoulders inward, centering myself, and it passed.
We drove the four minutes it took to get home in silence. I still felt dizzy and a bit unsettled. We took my dog across the road for a quick walk, and the dizziness returned. It became extreme in seconds. I had to crawl up the two short staircases to the living room on the upper level of our house.
I made it to the sofa, thinking, I was simply dehydrated. How stupid at this altitude to go out without a water bottle! I reached for my teacup with my left hand, only to realize that it wasn’t doing what was asked of it. I had to use my right hand to support my left wrist, then shift the cup clumsily to my right hand. I drank the contents, still thinking I only needed hydration. I had no pain and no fear.
That’s when my housemate called the ambulance. Clearly, there was something amiss and she was becoming frightened. I waved her off impatiently, wanting nothing more than to sleep—I was suddenly exhausted. She looked at me with mounting concern and asked me a question about something on the computer. When I answered her, I thought I was making sense. She later said it came out as gibberish. Soon, my whole left side went slack, including my face. I still felt fine as she was dialing 911.
Was I finished with this life on earth? Was I ready for the next adventure?
The EMTs showed up within minutes, hooked me up to oxygen and put something in the vein in my right arm. I was answering their questions with about 50 percent intelligibility. They put me onto a gurney and lifted me into an ambulance.
The ambulance got a mile away and stopped. Unbeknownst to me, the ambulance pulled to the side of the road as the EMTs worked to restart my heart.
I have no memory of that part. Here’s what I remember. The gurney bumped and slid as I was loaded into the back of the ambulance. Then, I was floating up high, higher than the tallest trees, which is saying something in an evergreen forest at an elevation of 9,000 feet. The mountaintops looked as though I could reach down to touch them.
There was no tunnel. I simply drifted into the white light, so familiar to me from meditation. It felt soothing and comforting. I loved the feeling of soaring over the earth. I felt no connection to my body nor to anything but the beauty around me.
There were angels there. My family. One, in particular, was bright gold, an orb of light that both surrounded and moved next to me.
“Are you finished here?”
I knew what was being asked. Was I finished with this life on earth? Was I ready for the next adventure?
I answered, “Yes and no.” I’m fairly certain I had no reference point for the request. Everything was so beautiful, and that was all that mattered. The angel asked if I was ready to come with her. I laughed.
“You’re always with me,” I answered.
The orb of light engulfed me in warm, soothing golden radiance. I knew that, wherever this was, it was already home.
I heard beautiful sounds. I realized I had missed them—that my heart had been longing for this. Other people refer to these sounds as the music of the spheres. It opens the heart and tears begin to flow. I felt only the love and the release.
I don’t remember making a clear decision, as so many do. I remember waking up as the gurney rolled into the ER. The sliding doors of the hospital flashed past me and the physical miracle began.
A CAT scan showed a large clot in one of the veins of my brain stem. But when the doctors did an MRI an hour and a half later, the clot had vanished. They were, in their words, mystified. I was in the ER for approximately six hours. A second CAT scan taken the next morning also showed nothing—a large, potentially life-threatening clot had completely disappeared, in less than 24 hours.
It took many months for me to heal completely, but I had no doubts that I had been held in that golden light the entire time.